


Heat

by Jaelijn



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Community: watsons_woes, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War, battle and injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-27
Updated: 2010-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaelijn/pseuds/Jaelijn
Summary: A hot day brings unexpected memories for Watson...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> _Archiving note:_ I am importing this fic to AO3 in August 2020 for archiving purposes. It has not been edited since its original publication in 2010.
> 
>  _Original A/N on LJ:_ I'm not entirely happy with this one... But well, it is good enough. Just nothing special, I think. Fic entry for challenge 013 at watsons_woes . Also filling the "nightmare" square on my hc_bingo card. Watson's POV. All canon characters were created by ACD.

It had been a horrendously hot day, following a week of equally high temperatures. Since no case was at hand, Holmes and I had been - rather willingly, at first - confined to our lodgings. Our sitting room was still cooler than the air outside, even though we had been forced to close the shutters and refrain from smoking to stop the air from becoming even more stale.

However, this day had changed things. By the time we had risen, the temperature in our sitting room had already reached a quite unbearable level. I had slept on the settee, since I had long surrendered my own bedroom upstairs to the heat, but we were both hard pressed for choices to avoid the sitting room. Thus, we lounged in our armchairs and tried to bear the day out with as little physical activity as was humanly possible.

My own body was rather more accustomed to heat than to cold, a reminiscence of my time in Afghanistan, but Holmes was visibly drained by both the lack of activity and the heat. It was around midday, when the temperature spiked another ten degrees that Holmes, already in his shirtsleeves, which he would never allow himself even in our own quarters if the circumstances were not particularly dire, threw down his book in defeat. "I have had enough of this heat, Watson. I shall go down and beg asylum in Mrs Hudson's cellar."

I chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous, Holmes."

The corners of his mouth twitched into a half-smile. "Well, the kitchen, then. Will you come?"

"Certainly."

Mrs Hudson, wearing her lightest of dresses even in the considerably cooler kitchen, had mercy on us. "The temperature in the hallway is bearable, gentlemen. In the kitchen, you would merely get in the way."

Holmes fell onto the settee positioned on the far end of the hallway, directly under the staircase, with a sigh, motioning me to the nearby armchair. "This doesn't affect you much, does it, Watson?"

"No, indeed not. I have not really felt the heat since I was in Afghanistan. Believe me, Holmes, this is nothing against the furnace of a sunbathed battlefield."

"Always the poet, eh, Watson?" Holmes curled in on himself, shifting to find a more comfortable position. "I fancy a nap would be in order, and I advise you to do the same. If this heat persists, we will catch precious little sleep tonight."

Soon after he had ceased speaking, his breathing evened out and he was fast and peacefully asleep. I had no intention of going to sleep and instead continued to read the book I had brought down from the sitting room. A good sea-novel was quite refreshing during the heat of the summer.

At some time during the afternoon - Holmes had not yet awoken - Mrs Hudson peered out of her kitchen. "Dr Watson, I believe the heat has broken. A storm is brewing."

"Indeed?"

She came into the hallway to open the front door. True to her word, the sky had darkened considerably, and violent gusts of wind blew stray papers down the street, throwing up the dust. I choined her by the door, relishing the fresh air as well as the cool breeze, and soon Holmes was by our side as well. "Thank heavens for that. I trust the temperature will plummet after the thunderstorm. We should go up, Watson, and open our windows."

"We could, if you had ordered your papers. Would you like them to fly around the sitting room?"

Holmes did not look amused at my quip. "No, indeed not. Well, then shall we stand by the door and wait until the storm has abated?"

"I fancy a nap, now that you have vacated the settee."

"Watson!"

I smirked. Mrs Hudson had long made her silent retreat. "Come, old boy. You were right, we should open the windows in our bedrooms, at least. If we keep the door to the sitting room closed, we might even be able to open the windows there."

We went about our task in companionable silence, even though I had to chuckle as Holmes recoiled from the wall of heat that assaulted us at the opening of the sitting room door.

The fresh breeze through our windows was a blessing, but even so it was as wise to refrain from unnecessary movements. Holmes glanced at his pocket watch. "I think I shall skip the evening meal, Watson, and retire now. This heat has drained me completely."

I could only agree with him. Heat did nothing to stimulate the appetite, and I was more than willing to sink into the cushions myself. "Good night then, Holmes."

"Good night, Watson." He disappeared into his bedroom with considerable speed, but even so the sudden draft send some of his papers flying to the floor. I picked them up and returned to my improvisatory accommodations on the sofa, only to drift off to sleep very quickly.

* * *

_"Doctor! Dr Watson! Over here!"_

_I turned towards the sound of Murray's voice, and hurried there, keeping my head low - as if that would make any difference. The bullets were all around us, and it was mere chance if one wasn't hit._

_Murray knelt beside a fallen soldier, whose eyes had already rolled back into his head with agony - a bullet had shattered his breastbone. I did no longer see the blood, or hear the screams. I would not have lasted so long if I had not been able to block them out. But I knew that our track had come to a stop - we were no longer advancing. "There is nothing I can do for him, Murray. His lungs have been pierced. I have no equipment for the surgery." Instead, I resorted to the only measure available to me - I drew my own weapon and ended the agony of our fellow soldier, closing his eyes forever._

_Murray stared up at me with the same fright I had learned to know, learned to fear in itself. To succumb to fear was to sign one's death warrant. I was only relieved that the wheezing sound of that pour souls breathing had stopped._

_I turned, pulling Murray to his feet with me._

_BANG!_

_Far too close, far too sudden. We both tumbled down, throwing ourselves onto the sand, and suddenly, through the haze of the whirling sand, I could see the enemy. Advancing._

_"Retreat!" I knew well the sound of my commanding officer's voice, and did not hesitate to follow his command. I had almost spend my bullets, and there was no time to recharge, not now. With desperate haste, dodging bullets all along, Murray and I rushed to the shelter of a garden wall. I hated myself for not stopping as the soldiers running with us were felled by bullets, their screams of agony resounding forever in my bones._

_There was a sharp flash of light, and another BANG, a bullet shattering the wall just above our heads. Eleven soldiers were there with us in hiding, one of them my own captain, who bled fiercely from the shoulder. Murray was already at his side. "Watson!"_

_I pulled a bandage from my medical bag - it was all I could do - and fastened it around the wound. I was sure that as many of the supplies I had used today had been wasted, in retrospect. There was only death._

_"No, Dr Watson, don't linger. They have closed on us. You will die if you stay here."_

_I stared at my captain. "I will be needed." It may be that the haze of the battle had made me overconfident, but I would not turn my back and run when around me my fellow soldiers needed my help, and if it was only to end their agony._

_"Go, Dr Watson. We will secure your retreat." And with that, he nodded to the eleven that were with us, and they dashed from the hiding, into the weapons of the enemy._

_BANG!_

_I was on my feet in lightning speed, but Murray grasped my arm, and there was another BANG and agony. Agony. I was thrown backwards by the impact, crashing into my orderly, falling, blinded by the pain, and the I was back on my feet, supported by Murray, and we were running, but it was the wrong direction. "Stop! I have to help!"_

_"You are injured, Dr Watson!"_

_"It doesn't matter!"_

_BANG!_

_"Watson! Dr Watson! Stay with me! Doctor!"_

* * *

"Watson! Wake up, my dear fellow!"

I thrashed out, trying to shake off the grip that held me back, but it would not yield, and my eyes flashed open. Chaos everywhere. Dust and papers, whirling around us.

There was Holmes, hovering over me - why was Holmes there? It was hot, and there was a flash of light, and another BANG, and I twisted out of Holmes's iron grip, throwing us both to the floor, twisting Holmes's arm to his back to keep him down as another gunshot sounded so close over our heads.

"Watson! Let me go!"

"Stay down or you will be killed, you fool!"

He tried to writhe away, but I pressed his arm upwards until his ceased twisting with a pained gasp drowning in a new tremendous shot. They had to be so very close...

"Watson! Good heavens, man, snap out of it! You are hurting me!"

And suddenly, the sitting room shifted back into my view. A loud bang, and of course it was too loud to be a gunshot, of course it was just the thunder, following the flash of lightning. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze, trying to draw in every shred of reality, of the present. Everything was all right. I, we were safe. It was just a thunderstorm. I chuckled, both out of bone deep relief and shame.

I had not had so violent a reaction since those month immediately after my return, and I could only assume that the combination of heat and noise had triggered my memories. The old wound was still throbbing with the memory of the pain I had just experienced again.

"Watson? Release me, old fellow?" Holmes shifted below me, drawing my attention back to him.

Of course, I immediately jumped to my feet, horrified. I had twisted his arm most painfully, not to mention that I had quite forgotten I was still holding onto him even as I realised that everything was all right and that all had been a dream, conjuring up past memories. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Holmes." I extended my hand to him, which he accepted wearily.

"Well, I certainly shall consider twice next time whether I should awaken you from your nightmares." A sheet of paper fluttered against his chest, and he caught it with ease. "So much for our precautions. What a mess."

He had, apparently dashed from his bedroom at my screams, not bothering to close the door after him. The entirety of his files was scattered all over the floor.

Holmes pushed the door shut. "Are you quite all right, Watson?"

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I had made a complete fool of myself. I could only imagine my own screams of agony, and there was no excuse for my subsequent actions. "I really owe you many apologies, Holmes."

He shook his head. "That is not an answer to my question, my dear friend."

I sank down on the sofa, struggling for a moment to remember what had been the question. "I do think so. I feel rather shaken."

Holmes chuckles kind-heartedly. "That much I gathered from your previous behaviour." He must have seen my flush, for he was quick to reassure me, sinking onto the sofa beside me. "Oh, I don't blame you for anything, Watson. I believe it was only a natural reaction."

"Thank you, Holmes."

"Would you like to talk about it? You never elaborated on that fateful battle."

I did not question how he had divined the exact subject of my dream. "It is not pleasant memories."

"No, of course not." Suddenly, if was Holmes looking uncomfortable. "I'm sure I couldn't imagine the extend of the horrors you had to witness. I fully understand that you do not wish to mention it. I just wish you to know that I am here to listen, should you ever..."

I pressed his hand gently. "Thank you, Holmes. I would like to share."

His eyes lit up with relief and concern at the same time.

"You have, of course, heard of the eleven of the Berkshire Regiment who died at Maiwand."

"Yes."

"I could well have been among them. I was with them to the last - they died to allow everyone of us who was left to retreat. I would not have followed orders. I would have stayed, if if it had not been for my injury, and my orderly, Murray, who brought me back to our own people even as I was senseless with pain."

"Oh, my dear fellow." Holmes closed his hand around mine. "I would willingly have spared you those experiences. The agony. However, in a very selfish way I am grateful. Had you not been in that battle, we would likely have never met. I have much to thank those eleven and Mr Murray for."

"As have I. Thank you, my friend."


End file.
